Mercy Saving
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Heaven Can't Wait tag: Some downtime in the bunker with Sam reminds Dean why he's made the choices he has.


**Mercy Saving**  
K Hanna Korossy

"Honey, I'm home!" Dean caroled as he entered the library from the garage hallway, because that never got old. Not "home," nor Sam's bitchy looks when he joked about it.

This time his brother just looked tired, though, as did Kevin when they glanced up at him from the books spread across the table.

"Huh. Did you guys even move since I left?" Dean asked, plopping his duffel onto a free chair. Not that he didn't know the answer; Sam had filled him in about how they'd gotten Crowley to do some translating for them, and the dead-end it had led to, that they might never be able to open Heaven's gates again.

"Not much," Sam sighed, thumping shut a fat tome with less care than he usually took.

"Well, don't say I never brought you anything." Dean dropped a bag next to the book. A ten-pound bag of potatoes.

Sam's eyebrows went up.

"Dude, three words: loaded baked potato. Besides, what else was I gonna bring you from Idaho?"

Sam shook his head, with that uniquely Sam expression that said, _you're a moron._

Little did he know. "That's not all I brought." With a flourish, Dean added a bucket of chicken, a boxed-up pie, and a six-pack of El Sol next to the potatoes.

Sam's face brightened a little. Dean was obviously forgiven. He'd kinda doubted Sam and Kevin had eaten much while he was gone, and that was confirmed by how quickly was Sam reaching for the chicken.

Kevin dove in for two pieces before Sam could even make the offer, then, hesitating a moment, a bottle of beer. "I'll be in my room," he mumbled as he shuffled out of the library.

Dean watched him go. "What's up with him?"

"His mom, Crowley, the tablet—take your pick," Sam said around a full mouth.

"Hmm." Dean stared after the kid sympathetically. Now that the angel tablet was a lost cause, maybe they should take him somewhere. The beach, Six Flags: something fun and non-bookish.

"So, get this," Sam said, shoving books out of the way as Dean settled across from him and dug some food out for himself. "Crowley stole a syringe of my blood. At first I thought he was gonna make another call with it, but then I caught him _injecting it into himself_."

Dean forgot about the food. "What, seriously?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a disbelieving half-grin. "I think he wants to, you know, _feel_ some more. Like he was starting to when we were doing the cure."

"Huh." Dean tore off a piece of chicken absentmindedly. "Wouldn't _that_ hurt his cred downstairs."

"You know," Sam said carefully, and that already had Dean paying closer attention. "We could finish curing him."

Dean stopped chewing, stunned.

"Not like that," Sam said quickly. "We wouldn't finish the Trial, just the cure. Doesn't count if you don't say the ritual words, right? You could even be the one to finish it instead of me."

Dean ate slowly as he considered that. Theoretically, yeah, it made sense. They'd seen the film of that priest cure a demon, and that had nothing to do with the Trials. But it was kinda hard to forget what went down in that isolated church, Sam's glowing arms and desolate expression, his nearly lifeless body in the hospital, the doctor's solemn pronouncement of _"massive internal burns."_ Dean wanted badly to say no, but Sam didn't react well to Dean putting his foot down, so he did the next best thing. "How about we keep that in our back pocket for now, huh? See what we can get out of him first."

Sam's look told him his brother totally had his number, but he knew Dean's limits as well as Dean knew his and didn't push.

They ate in silence a minute before Sam said, "So, you saw Cas?"

It wasn't exactly a welcome change of subject, but it figured Sam would want to know about Cas and the hunt. Dean filled him in on the newest "sales associate" of the Rexford Gas 'n Sip, and the mercy-killing angel who'd come after him.

"He's doing okay," he finished. "Says he's found 'dignity in work.'"

Sam's mouth curved. "Yeah, he would." He shook his head. "Did you tell him about the Heaven spell being irreversible?"

Dean sighed, dropping the drumstick he'd mostly finished. He'd been trying not to think too hard about that himself. "Couldn't do it. He's still hoping, you know?" At Sam's too-understanding look, he reached for the box. "You want some pie?"

They didn't bother with plates; Dean held up two plastic forks, and he and Sam dug in on opposite sides. It was a pretty good one, from a place he'd passed on the way that advertised "blue-ribbon pies." Apple with something tart. A winter pie, which was fine by him.

He started smiling a few minutes in, enough that Sam finally noticed.

"What?"

"Cas went on his first date. Well, thought he was going on his first date—she actually just wanted a babysitter. But he kinda reminded me of you when you first—"

"Dean," Sam warned.

"—started dating," Dean finished innocently. It never ceased to amuse him how much of a prude Sam was, even after living with Jessica and tomcatting it through his soulless year and his share of waitresses and bartenders and librarians across the country.

Sam was starting to smile, too. "You give him the same advice? Open the door for her, ask lots of questions, make sure you pay, always use protection?"

"All but the last one," Dean confirmed. "I gave him that talk after, you know, Reaper-Girl."

Sam snorted, digging in for another bite. "And he still doesn't wanna stay here?"

Dean barely paused in his chewing, even though the question was a gut-punch. He hated, hated lying to Sam, but hated the thought of his dying even more because Zeke left the healing unfinished. His eyes darted briefly to Sam's.

Maybe he imagined the momentary flash of blue?

"No," he said firmly, no longer hesitating. Dean shook his head, even as he pushed the pie away. "He says he's doing okay, and he still doesn't want to risk us."

Sam nodded, oblivious, scraping out the last of the pie. "You wanna put a movie on? I downloaded the latest _Fast & Furious_."

"Sounds good," Dean said absently, watching his brother as Sam tossed the trash and wiped the table down, movements easy and free of pain, and one-hundred percent Sam.

No, Dean thought, twisting a beer open and taking a long drink. Nothing was worth risking his brother.

 **The End**


End file.
